The Heiress
by Cairo Mors
Summary: After manifesting some Matilda-esque powers, severely bullied Hermione plots to ensure that she is never a victim again, not even at Hogwarts. Her plan works and she convinces everyone she is a pure-blood witch. However, Hermione's very life may be at risk due to a flaw in her research. She will have to use her wits, and a healthy dose of deception if she wants to survive.
1. Chapter 1: Let the Games Begin

England, September 1990

Hermione Granger had been bullied as a child. Severely, and for a variety of reasons.

First, it had been her skin. In a primary school that had catered to the more well-to-do families of her neighbourhood, she had been the only visibly mixed-race student. That had lead to scathing comments by most of her peers on just how dirty she must be, how strange she was.

Her bushy mane of tangled brown hair did not help. The girls had taken every opportunity to taunt her about it. They would pass their hands through their long, silky, and usually blonde, hair, and then yank at hers. It had gotten so bad she had often returned home with her scalp completely red, and smarting from all the tugging.

But her bullies' biggest motive: her intelligence.

Hermione was a borderline genius, and this quickly became apparent to the members of staff of her school. With an almost photographic memory, and a voracious appetite for reading she had excelled so much that it had been impossible for her to continue with her age-group. Thus, Hermione ended up skipping a year, and another… and another, until at age ten, Hermione had ended up in a class with fifteen year olds.

Intellectually, Hermione had shone. Each year, she proved that she was capable of handling the workload assigned to her, and more. Every year, the teachers would raise their expectations of where they expected Hermione to reach. Some thought she would be the next Einstein, or Freud, or Shakespeare, or Churchill. With her intelligence, the sky truly was the limit.

Emotionally, it had been traumatizing. Before, she had dealt with the infantile insults of children her own age. After skipping so many years however, the situation had changed completely. As an ten year old in a class full of teenagers, taunts had taken on an entirely different intensity. It had almost broken her.

On her eleventh birthday, Hermione was pounced on by an owl. It landed on her hair, leaving behind something heavy on her head.

"Of course! Even the birds don't like me. But did it really just lay an egg in my hair?"

Hermione swiped at her hair, determined to rid it of any possible owl eggs. As she did, her hand brushed against something papery. After a bit of manoeuvring, she was finally able to detangle what she found was a letter from her hair.

The contents of the letter would change her life irrevocably.

She was a Witch!

Of course, she had already known that she had been special for some time now. Her first experience with the bizarre had been when she was five and Betty Andrews, a spoiled brat in her year, had been pulling at her hair. She had felt so angry, and so humiliated, and just wanted everything to stop, and then, magically it had. Betty had been frozen in place, completely immobile, for the entirety of lunch time, which gave Hermione almost an entire hour for herself! She had loved it. But she wanted to know exactly what had happened.

Thus, Hermione's naturally inquisitive mind lent itself to the task of discovering how exactly the strange incidents - and there had been many- happening around her had occurred. She soon became convinced that she had mystical powers.

Focusing those powers had been almost impossible. No matter how much she read, and how much she tried, she couldn't channel her power at a whim. This was the case for most everything she had tried. One ability, however, had very recently become available to her after years of trying and it had radically altered her treatment at school.

Hermione was now a quite capable illusionist.

But of course it was just a coincidence that her bullies had been having hallucinations as of late. Must have been drugs. The principal and their parents had certainly agreed. Especially after "seeing" one of the students "destroying evidence".

Hermione chuckled. Revenge had been served.

She would have to prepare for this Professor McGonagall's visit.

 **H** ermione frowned.

Professor McGonagall had explained to Hermione and her rather worried parents that Hermione was what the Wizarding World called a muggle-born.

What the Professor hadn't explained, however, was that muggle-borns were social pariahs, and were often called Mudbloods by the Magical Elite, the purebloods, especially those of the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight.

It had taken Hermione all of one hour in Flourish and Botts, a magical bookstore on Diagon Alley, to discover this. She wondered why the Professor had not revealed this to her or her family. Surely she would want to at least warn the Grangers of the possibility that she could face prejudice?

Putting that aside, Hermione refused to be put into a position where she would be bullied again. She had spent her entire time at schooling being taunted and ridiculed. Until a few months ago she had been a helpless victim.

Now, however, things would change. And she had just the plan to make sure she stayed on top.

 **H** ermione visited Diagon Alley quite frequently after her first excursion with Professor McGonagall. Almost everyday, in fact.

During the time spent there, she did two things: she researched, and she practiced her illusions. Both would be essential to her plan.

The research would help her carefully establish herself as a person of importance in the Magical World. The illusions would ensure that she had "proof" to back her claims. Thus, it was necessary to ensure that her illusions worked on more than just Muggles.

They did.

 **E** ngland, July 1991

Hermione's plan was ready to be enacted.

She had spent hours upon hours dedicating herself to her research and to the plan, now, all that was needed was Professor McGonagall.

Hermione's plan was simple in theory. Refusing to be bullied any longer, Hermione would enter Hogwarts as a pureblood Heiress of a House thought to be extinct. She would use her illusions to convince McGonagall that her parents were both squibs who had fled certain death from their families, and had taken refuge in Muggle London.

Her father's illusion would say that he was the squib son of the Grangers, coincidentally, a once-famous Wizarding family from her father's native Haiti.

Her mother's would claim that her father had been Morfin Gaunt, heir of the ancient British pureblood Gaunt family, and a foreign pure-blood witch. She would say that she had been secretly raised in her mother's home, until it was discovered that she was a squib. Her mother had not been pleased and had attempted to murder her. Fortunately, she had been able to escape and settled in Muggle London.

The two then met in Dental School, fell in love, and had Hermione. This was just about the only part of Hermione's story that was not a falsehood. But as Hermione had learned, the best lies had elements of the truth.

As a precaution, the illusions would say that they felt uncomfortable and ashamed talking about their pasts and that they would not be speaking about it again. This shut down any possible means of the Professor trying to find out more information from her parents, without her there to provide the illusions.

It had all worked out! Hermione was now a pureblood witch in the eyes of Professor McGonagall, and gossip was bound to spread about it. She just had to let the rumour mill do its business, and by the time she entered Hogwarts, it would be common knowledge. A perfect plan.

Hermione's plan truly had been brilliant, if a bit convoluted and morally questionable. Nonetheless, despite its brilliance, it had come with a flaw. Hermione had collected an enormous amount of data to be able to support her story, she had not however, realized the significance of some of the names she had used.

Well, one name in particular. Gaunt. Though she had no way of knowing, Hermione had already decided her fate.

 **S** eptember 1991

Hermione sat alone in the train compartment, her face a mask of serenity.

She had read tomes upon tomes on proper pureblood heiresses, and come to the realization that they were like medieval muggle royalty. Thus, she had made it her mission to be the very picture of elegance, and class. She should appear confident and proud, but not arrogant or standoffish, as she would be seen as a product of poor breeding.

Moreover, to complete her Heiress visual, she had actually had to delve into the world of fashion, a subject that she had no interest in. Her mother, on the hand, had been absolutely delighted. As such, Hermione's wardrobe now consisted of several pieces inspired by her mother's fashion icons - Jackie Kennedy and Audrey Hepburn - all in rich, dark colours.

The sound of the compartment door sliding open brought Hermione out of her musings.

"Hello. Have you seen a toad in here? My toad, Trevor, is missing.", a chubby blonde boy whispered.

"Yes, I have. In fact, I had heard about the magical properties of toads, so I harvested him."

The boy went white as a sheet, and seemed on the verge of tears.

"That was a joke." Hermione groaned. It seemed Heiress or not, she still was not funny, She made a mental note to read up more on comedy.

"Yes, Trevor is over there", she said, pointing to a corner of the compartment in which Trevor sat completely still. It was almost as if he were in a daze.

Yes, Hermione had no qualms practicing her illusions on animals.

"Oh thank you so much! Gran would have killed me if I had lost Trevor again." The boy picked up the toad hurriedly and made to exit the compartment.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself? I know that's Trevor. What about you? I am Hermione Granger."

"Oh sorry Hermione. Gran would kill me if she knew I had forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Neville Longbottom."

Longbottom? Hermione's eyes flashed. The Longbottoms were a Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood family. Perhaps some pre-Hogwarts networking…?

"There seems to be a lot your Gran would kill you for, Neville. But nevermind that, why don't you sit here for awhile. I would appreciate the company."

"Erm, alright."

"So tell me, what House are you hoping to get into?"

"My gran wants me to go to Gryffindor." Neville looked downcast as he said this. Hermione was not a psychologist, but she was a genius, and it didn't take a genius to notice that Neville possessed a rather unhealthy level of fear of his grandmother.

"And what do you want Neville? I'm thinking Ravenclaw myself."

"Well I don't really have any talents. Merlin knows I'm not smart enough for Ravenclaw, I could hardly muster up the courage to come into this compartment so Gryffindor is probably a stre-"

"Neville. We're eleven. You don't actually have to be good at anything yet. Just take it slow. The Sorting Hat will make a suggestion, and you can even reason with it."

"Really?! I've never heard of that. How do you know that?" Neville asked excitedly.

Hermione smiled demurely.

"Haven't you read Hogwarts: A History?"

 **H** ermione was outraged.

Had the books been wrong? They almost never were. So why had the Sorting Hat sat on her head for all of one millisecond before it had screamed SLYTHERIN!

It was so unfair!

Hermione made sure not to show her displeasure as she walked to the Slytherin table. In fact, as she took her place at the table, she attempted to convey confidence and acceptance, as if all had gone exactly as she had planned.

Mentally, however, she was screaming obscenities. Thanks to the blasted Hat, she would be at the epicentre of the bullying, and discrimination for her entire Hogwarts life.

 **H** ermione followed the Seventh Year prefect, along with the other first years, to the dungeons, where the Slytherin dormitories were located.

Wasn't that ironic? She had been trapped in Slytherin House and now she would be living in a dungeon. It was absolutely poetic.

A consistent chattering in the group interrupted Hermione's thoughts.

The blond boy who had been boasting at length about his father's meeting with the Minister of Magic, Draco Malfoy, was now attempting to establish himself as a leader of the first years, with varied success.

Some like Pansy Parkinson, a girl with a rather pinched face, and Crabbe and Goyle, two boys could only describe as trolls, were eating it up, and feeding his ego.

Others such as Theodore Nott, a small, rather nondescript boy, and Daphne Greengrass, a beautiful blue eyed blonde haired Heiress that Hermione was immediately self-conscious around, had established themselves as rivals to Draco.

The two remaining students, other than Hermione, were Tracey Davis, a painfully polite girl, and Blaise Zabini, the most handsome boy Hermione had ever seen in her life, and they seemed content to be diplomatic about their allegiances, at least at first.

"I can't believe we got a Blood-traitor's daughter in our year. My father will not be pleased to hear about this, Davis."

Hermione groaned internally.

The game had just begun.


	2. Chapter 2: Friends and Foes

At the end of the first month of school, Hermione sat in her bed in the rather fancy girl's dormitory, trying to decide on a game plan for the rest of her Slytherin years.

She was still massively upset with the Sorting Hat, and a bit disappointed in her own lack of foresight, but she was determined to make the best of a bad situation.

On the plus side, her experience so far had been positively blissful. Everyone believed her to be a Pureblood Heiress, she had read ahead in all of her classes; seemed a natural with practical magic; the teachers loved her - well except for Professor Snape who merely tolerated her - and she even had a tentative friend in Neville.

Life had never been better.

And yet, Hermione was also deeply unsettled.

While she had not been bullied since she arrived at Hogwarts, she had seen it happen more than once. Malfoy hadn't been the only git in the school. That loudmouth Ron Weasley had accused Blaise Zabini of practicing Dark Magic because he had been one of the first to cast the Levitation spell.

Honestly, Hermione thought, it was all in the pronunciation. Wingardium LeviOsa, not Wingardium LeviosA. She had refrained from commenting on it though. She had too much class for that. Besides Blaise seemed to have handled it well enough himself, if Ronald's muted voice said anything - She had to laugh at her own wit.

However, the most frequent victims of bullying she knew were Neville and Tracey.

Neville had, by some miracle, been sorted into Gryffindor, but his rather clumsy nature had left him an easy target.

Tracey, however, had been facing the social isolation all Slytherins received, whilst simultaneously being constantly mocked and belittled by Draco Malfoy, and his goons. That Tracey had to share a dorm with one of her tormentors had no doubt been a source of serious pain.

What troubled Hermione the most, however, was that she had not once stood up for either Tracey or Neville. How many times had she prayed that just one person would help her? That just one person would take the time to notice that she was going through Hell? It disgusted Hermione that she hadn't done for them what she would have wanted done for her. She had ignored that Golden Rule.

Well no longer.

"Hey Tracey!" Hermione called out.

"Yes, Hermione?" Ever-polite Tracey responded.

"I would like to apologize."

"For what? You haven't done anything to me."

"That is true, but I haven't done anything to help you either. So I just want to say I am sorry, and that I won't be tolerating your mistreatment any longer."

"Hermione, I haven't been mistreated at all. That's silly. Thank you for your concern though"

Hermione didn't respond. She understood. Tracey didn't believe that Hermione was sincere.

She was determined to prove herself. Which is why the next day, as the rumours about Harry Potter defeating a troll in the dungeons circulated, and Pansy had the gall to suggest that the troll should have found Tracey first before expiring, that Hermione acted. A simple colour-changing charm had Pansy's teeth black for the entire day, with the girl none the wiser

Tracey nodded at her in gratitude, eyes glistening with tears.

Justice had been served.

 **H** ermione had also apologized to Neville, who had a much easier time of accepting her words.

However, Hermione had enjoyed the feeling of putting Pansy in her place so much, that she insisted that she give Neville a bit of a hand in fending off his tormentors as well.

When Neville's broom went haywire and he crashed into the ground, clearly spraining his wrist, and Draco had the indecency to laugh and mock him, Hermione knew that her chance had come. For this reckoning, she decided that she would be using one of her illusions.

Hermione watched as Malfoy and Potter raced through the sky, competing for Neville's Remembrall. When Malfoy lobbed the ball at the castle and Potter went chasing after it, she seized her chance.

To the students of the flying class, one second Draco Malfoy was his normal smug self, the next he was a screaming, skittish mess.

In Draco's mind, a massive flock of ravens had encircled him, and he twisted and turned and screamed as he attempted to flee from the birds.

The gathered students all laughed as the Malfoy Heir seemed to have gone mad.

Potter had caught the Remembrall and she had repaid Neville.

She felt like a real superhero.

 **H** ermione's efforts to end Tracey's bullying had yielded results that were both positive and negative.

The positive result were that Tracey was now a good friend.

The negative was that Pansy had seen this as an affront and had made sure to inform her of it.

In the hallways on the way to Potions, Pansy had pulled her and Tracey aside.

"Granger. I'm shocked! A pureblood witch like you shouldn't be cavorting with half-bloods like Dirty Davis." Pansy had sneered at her.

"A pureblood witch like you should have some manners! Who I 'cavort' with is none of your business, Parkinson."

Seeing Pansy about to retort something, Hermione couldn't help but add, "Oh and watch out! Hysteria seems to be going around. I would hate for you to catch it, especially so soon after the teeth incident!"

Pansy turned beet red, and stormed off.

"Come on, Tracey. I doubt Professor Snape will sympathize with us if we get to his class late. Even if we are snakes."

 **P** erhaps she shouldn't have goaded Pansy, but in the moment it had been so easy to just slip in a little threat.

She regretted it now though. Pansy had evidently caught the implication that she was behind Draco's little meltdown during the flying lesson, and had gone running to the blond brat to inform him.

Which had lead to him accosting her

Now, Hermione, ordinarily was quite a pleasant person, but several years of traumatic experiences had made her rather vindictive.

As Draco had started insulting her about everything from her teeth to her robes to her friends, and attempted to hex her, her vindictiveness came out in full force. She took out her wand and waved it arbitrarily, while muttering a nonsense-word, in order to obfuscate her illusion-casting.

Draco paused. The chirping of a million birds pounded through his head before they were silenced by a roar. The castle seemed to shake, and the floor around him started cracking.

"Granger! Granger, what are you doing? You'll damage the whole castle! Stop this instant, or I will be writing my father about this."

The cracks widened. Draco looked panicked.

"My father -"

Suddenly, the floor around him gave way. and Draco screamed as he fell.

Hermione waved her wand, and covertly ended the illusion. Draco looked around in absolute fear. He seemed flabbergasted at what he perceived to be the immense scope of Hermione's magical ability.

"See why you don't want to get on my bad side, Draco? I can destroy a whole floor in seconds! And fix it even faster! Now don't ever attack me again, or I might just let you fall next time."

Draco nodded his head vigorously and then turned tail and ran.

Hermione waited for Draco to leave before she cursed. She wasn't sure if she had had just declared a war or ended it.

Hermione groaned. She couldn't wait for Christmas.

 **H** ermione sat in the Library, Tracey by her side, while she did some research on Magical France. She and her parents would be going to France for the Christmas Holidays and she wanted to take the opportunity to explore its magical centres.

According to her research, her two destinations would be L'ossuaire, the French version of Diagon Alley, and Beauxbatons.

She was extremely eager to experience a new Magical Culture. It would be such a great opportunity to learn and it would provide her with a well-needed break.

"You know, I overheard Draco this morning. It seems the Malfoys will be vacationing in France this Christmas, as well."

Hermione smacked her head. Why was life so difficult?


	3. Chapter 3: Holidays and Hellholes

France was beautiful!

She had gone a tour of Beauxbatons' grounds - the Palace was inaccessible to the public - and had been extremely impressed.

The gardens had been maintained, and well behaved herds of animals had wandered all over the grounds. Hermione had seen unicorns, crups, fairies and even caught a glimpse of the secretive reynards - a magical race of foxes that possessed human-like intelligence.

It had been a great learning experience and she had been extremely thorough in documenting her trip, with notes and pictures, to show to her parents - who hadn't been able to pass the Beauxbatons wards- and Tracey.

Interspersed with her magical exploration of France, she had also visited famous muggle sites, like the Eiffel Tower, and the Notre-Dame Cathedral with her parents.Unaccustomed to boarding school life, she had missed them fiercely. Thus Hermione relished in the opportunity to spend time with her parents and live free of the complications of her new magical life.

And for most of her trip she had been largely successful. Until she had gone to L'ossuaire.

The Grangers had been browsing through the magical shopping district hidden away in the Catacombs of Paris when Hermione had seen him!

Draco, and his lookalike father, and a beautiful two-tone-haired woman that must have been his mother. The Malfoys!

Hermione had tried herding her parents into a shop to hide but it had been too late: Draco had spotted her! And for some insanely stupid reason, had decided to approach her. Hermione immediately wished that she had avoided L'ossuaire.

"Well, fancy seeing you here Granger. What an absolutely pleasant surprise." Draco drawled sarcastically before appraising her shrewdly. "And in such interesting attire too."

Hermione blushed. She and her parents were all wearing decidedly muggle fashion, dressed as they were in jerseys and jeans.

"Yes, Draco. I am just so glad that I'm seeing you on my holiday. On Christmas Eve no less. It's a true Christmas miracle." She retorted back just as sarcastically.

"Christmas? Are you sure you don't mean Yule?" Draco sneered at her. "The muggle clothes, the muggle expressions, Granger, I'm starting to wonder if you aren't really a muggle-born."

Hermione paled. She had slipped up. Of course! "True purebloods" referred to Christmas as Yule! it had been in the appendix of the Pure-Blood Directory! She would have to salvage the situation quickly.

"Yes, of course. I am really a muggle-born who managed to trick all the purebloods into believing I'm actually one of them. Makes complete sense."

Draco appeared unconvinced for a second, before he burst out laughing.

"Hilarious, Granger! As if that were possible! I would have smelled you from a mile away if you were a Mudblood. No. Strange dress, and phrases aside, you are definitely a Pureblood."

Hermione rolled her eyes, while internally she breathed a massive sigh of relief.

"Wow. Thanks for the validation! I would live in constant doubt without you around. Goodbye!" Seeing her parents edging closer, Hermione quickly waved Draco away.

"I'm exhausted! Can we leave!?" Hermione's parents, Toussaint and Perdita, raised their eyebrows simultaneously - not only had she not asked properly, she hadn't followed the only-French holiday rule.

Hermione giggled.

"S'il te plaît?"

 **T** he Christmas holiday had ended, and barring the near-catastrophic run-in with Draco, it had been perfect.

Back at Hogwarts however, a rather interesting development seemed to have come about.

Tracey, who had stayed in Hogwarts, told her that Pansy had been miserable for all of Yule, and been screaming about the injustice of the world. Apparently, Pansy had discovered that both Hermione and Draco had been in France - Hermione glared at Tracey, who had the sense to look bashful - and had gotten it into her head that they were an item. In fact, the moment Hermione had walked into the First Year girl's dormitory, Pansy had burst into tears.

"Come to gloat, have you, Granger? Now that you have stolen Drakey-poo from me? - more sobs - We were going to be betrothed, you home-wrecking harlot!"

Hermione pitied the girl. Truly, she did. But insults were unnecessary, especially such grave ones.

The two other occupants of the room, Tracey and Daphne, looked on wide-eyed as they prepared themselves for one of Hermione's epic takedowns.

She didn't disappoint.

"Now, now, Pansy dear, what have I told you about hysteria? But really. I can't help it if Draco is in love with me. He was practically begging me for a betrothal contra-"

Hermione, who had been unpacking her clothes, and books, while she spoke, turned around when she heard a large thump.

Pansy had fainted and fallen off her four-poster bed.

Peals of girlish laughter echoed through their room, all the way to the Slytherin Common Room.

 **H** ermione had noticed something strange about one of her classmates. Harry Potter to be exact.

He seemed to be constantly popping up out of nowhere, all the time. In fact, just the other day Hermione had left her seat in the empty library for all of two seconds, and had returned to find Harry Potter sitting at a table opposite hers. He couldn't have entered the Library while she wasn't looking because she had been facing the entrance!

And then again, she had been in the Restricted Section of the library the night before - Professor Flitwick had been more than happy to provide permission to the "Snake that should have been a Raven" - and Potter had appeared quite literally out of nowhere to snoop around.

It was an enigma.

Hermione wanted to know what Potter was doing, and how he was getting about the castle unseen to do it.

He was obviously in need of some information.

But transportation-wise, she was at a loss. She had already ruled out apparition - "too young, and impossible within Hogwarts. it says so in Hogwarts: A History" -, time-turners - "Ministry-regulated" -, a broom - "He's great on a broom, but he didn't have one with him either time I saw him".

Perhaps he was using a house-elf, she thought with a frown. A house-elf would be able to transport itself within Hogwarts' wards. The inherently un-wizardlike nature of their magic allowed them to bypass whatever wards Hogwarts had in place that prevented Apparition. And yet, the tell-tale sign of Apparition, at least according to all the books she had read as Hermione had yet to see an apparition, a loud crack, was missing.

Whatever he was using, it had piqued her interest.

 **A** n invisibility cloak!

Harry Potter had an invisibility cloak, and he was using it to sneak into the restricted section of the Library! The magical world was just so interesting!

Well that solved the how, but the why was still unanswered.

Aware that she was being incredibly nosey, and rather audacious, Hermione approached Harry and his shadow, Ron Weasley.

"Hello." Hermione followed pureblood etiquette and curtseyed, feeling incredibly foolish while doing so.

"I'm Herm-"

"Hermione Granger, we know. I think you might be the most famous first-year, well aside from Harry here." Ron said. Harry nodded

"Famous? Me? For what?" Hermione asked, utterly confused.

"Well for two reasons really: rumour has it that you know the answer to every question, and you're basically royalty aren't you?"

"Pardon me?"

"Your family? The Grangers, rulers of Haiti, and all that."

Hermione relaxed. The Grangers, the ancient Haitian pureblood family that her father was supposedly from, had at the height of their power two centuries ago been the de-facto Kings of Haiti. Political treachery, a large amount of squib births, and infighting, all rumoured to have been caused by a single curse, had been enough to see the once prominent family a mere shadow of itself, until its last official member, Jean-Jacques Granger had died heirless. Until Hermione, that is.

Hermione was surprised that Ron had

"Oh yeah. Just call me Princess, I guess." She joked.

Ron sputtered.

Hermione sighed. She and humour still weren't friends it seemed.

"It was a joke. I was joking. Anyway, I just came to ask if you need any help. I've noticed you in the Library, searching desperately through books. In the restricted section might I add."

Harry and Ron seemed to grow more agitated with each word that she uttered, until Hermione was quite certain that something serious was going on.

Harry stepped forward, and spoke, "Well, I guess we could use your help, Princ, err, I mean Hermione. We were looking for some information on someone named Nicholas Flamel. Do you know who he is?"

Hermione laughed. That was it? The big mystery wasn't so big it seemed.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Funnily enough, I visited his house in Paris just the other day."

The boys' eyes bulged. Hermione really did know all the answers!

"He's an alchemist, famous for creating a philosopher's stone, which can turn metals into gold and produce the Elixir of Life, which grants immortality to whoever drinks it."

The boys exchanged horrified looks. They thanked her and quickly ran off.

Later that same night, Hermione was practicing an illusion Harry's invisibility cloak had inspired when she caught a glimpse of the duo sneaking around again. She watched as they entered a door in the third-floor corridor.

What was on the third-floor that could possibly interest those two.

To her horror, her mind instantly recalled Professor Dumbledore's warning at the Sorting Feast. "Die a horrible death" she muttered to herself.

They were going to commit suicide! She had to stop them!

Hermione slammed the door behind her and immediately regretted it. A large three-headed dog - a cerberus her mind provided- was quickly waking up, and all three of its heads were glaring straight at her.

Looking around for the boys, and an escape route, Hermione noticed two things: a trapdoor was open under they cerberus's paw from which loud yells were emanating; and an enchanted harp was in the corner of the room.

As the strings of the harp plucked themselves, Hermione noticed the Cerberus six eyelids start to droop before it fell over sideways, asleep.

Hermione ran over to the trapdoor to see what was going on, but as she peered in, all she could see was pitch black.

"Lumos Maxima!" she intoned. Suddenly, she could see very clearly. Ron and Harry, who had been almost completely immobilized and submerged in Devil's Snare, had just dropped to the floor.

"What are you gits doing?" she stage-whispered. "Suicide is never the option, boys. What would your families think? Now wait there for a second, while I go and fetch a Professor."

"HERMIONE NO!" Both boys screamed.

The cerberus' eyes had opened again and Hermione was dangerously close to its paws. With no other choice, Hermione jumped though the trapdoor.

Forget suicide, she would be killing those boys herself.


	4. Chapter 4: Trial by Fire

Three panicked voices all shouted different things.

Ron screamed "BLIMEY!" and tried to catch Hermione before she fell.

Harry racked his brains for a second before remembering the Softening Charm that Professor Flitwick had taught them. He made and 's' pattern with his wand while directing it at the floor and roared "SPONGIFY!".

Hermione, who seems remarkably unbothered as she fell knew that it was a simple matter to cast a Cushioning Charm. In fact, until she heard Harry's spell, she had been prepared to cast it. Now, however, she was truly panicked. The Softening Charm and the Cushioning Charm were not meant to be used in tandem. Something about the inner workings of the spells caused strange results like the area affected by the spell turning to a tar-like substance.

Hermione knew that theoretically the Softening Charm would work. She wouldn't be injured when she hit the ground, but the laws of physics told her that the force she exerted going down would be the same force that would be exerted going up. In other words, the Softening Charm would act as a trampoline. The only problem with that is that her trajectory would either be back up to the trapdoor where the Cerberus would be, or into the ceiling, or wall, of whatever room the boys were now in. Either way she risked serious injury or death.

She was surprised at Harry's quick spell-casting, and admired Ron's willingness to break her fall with his own body, but she had had it under control.

Sighing as she fell, Hermione deliberately broke a rule that all of the Professors had stressed: never attempt magic beyond your level. "ARRESTO MOMENTUM!"

The boys watched in awe as Hermione's falling body seemed to slow dramatically, until she landed on the floor with the lightest of taps.

"Blimey Hermione! How did you do that?'

Not feeling particularly charitable, and slightly out of breath, Hermione responded succinctly. "Magic."

Ron nodded his head vigorously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Alright you two. You have a bit of explaining to do, if you don't want me to go to the Headmaster."

Both boys went into a rather long-winded explanation of why Professor Snape was attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone.

"So both of you think that Professor Snape is trying to steal the stone so that he can give it to homicidal megalomaniac, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort?"

"And you all are still going ahead even though you both noticed that someone had already entered the trapdoor, and that there is a high chance that you will encounter whoever it is that is trying to steal the stone?"

No one contradicted her. Harry and Ron, in fact, had barely finished listening to her question before they dashed off.

She had no choice but to follow them.

"Bloody Gryffindors."

 **H** ermione had watched in amusement and slight concern as the trio passed each trial easily. How was it possible that the best protections that the Professor's had to offer were all capable of being bypassed by a trio of first-years?

Had the Professors really been trying at all?

In fact, Hermione was rather certain that a Seventh Year would scoff at the protections and breeze in and out in mere minutes. The keys could be immobilized; the trolls easily defeated - Harry and Ron had already proven that earlier in the year-, the chess game would have been a bit more difficult, but Hermione had read up on conjurations, and she was certain that a gifted transfigurations student with an eye for strategy would have no problems.

Ron had tried to sacrifice himself for them to win though. He was an excellent strategist, better than she herself would ever be, but somehow he was still a bit dim. As the Queen hopped off its throne and prepared to knock the living daylights out of him, Hermione had the sense to fire off softening and shield charms. This left Ron quite groggy, and with a rather spectacularly red face, but at least he wasn't knocked out.

The logic-based poem for the potions would be very difficult for most wizards though. Especially ones that were not exposed to the highly logical muggle-world.

Needless to say, she had cracked it easily.

"It's this one! But there is very little left! I think it might be enough for just one person."

Harry had immediately chugged it down, and stepped through the fire.

Hermione waited a few minutes with Ron, in tense silence, when a voice shouted out, "THE BOY LIES!".

Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione told Ron, who was glassy eyed - she suspected he had suffered a concussion - to get a Professor, chugged down the last remaining drop of potion, and jumped through the fire.

 **E** vidently, the amount of potion hadn't been enough.

The magical fire had latched on to her and by the time Hermione had been able to out the flames, her bushy head of hair had been schorched off, and her entire scalp had been burnt.

Hermione could feel the burns on her head, and the pain emanating from them was intense, but she had to to help Harry.

She saw Harry bound and gagged in thick ropes in the corner of the room, and a little ways away was….

"Pro-prof-professor!?" Hermione gasped in horror.

She had been deeply sceptical about Professor Snape's involvement, but Professor Quirrell was so … so timid. He had been afraid of his own shadow in class. How was it that he could be bold enough to try to steal from right under Professor Dumbledore's nose?

"Let me see the girl!" a seemingly disembodied voice called out from behind the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Strangely enough there seemed to be no one there.

Was Professor Quirrell being possessed by a demon? Was he hosting a spirit? Exorcisms weren't taught till Seventh Year! And only for extra-credit! She should know, she had read the entire syllabus already! What was she going to do!?

Then Professor Quirrell turned around and revealed the rotting face at the back of his head.

"Oh" Hermione said, shocked out of her mind.

"Oh? That's all you have to say to greet me? The most powerful sorcerer in the world! And your cousin. I expected better manners from a scion of the House of Gaunt."

COUSIN!? Hermione's eyes bulged. "no, no no no no nono.." she muttered darkly to herself.

"Yes. Cousin. Your grandfather and my mother were siblings. Interesting, right? Over the course of the year you have impressed me, so I won't kill you right this instant, but we will continue this chat after I'm through with Potter. Quirell!"

"Yes, master."

With a snap of his fingers, an already near-catatonic Hermione was also bound.

"Now onto Potter."

Hermione watched as Quirrell sauntered over to Harry and cut the ropes that bound him, before attempting to strangle him. Luckily for Harry, Quirrell seemed to disintegrate at the slightest touch of Harry's skin.

Harry had noticed as well, because he leaped at Quirrell and made sure to touch as much of Quirrell's exposed face as possible.

Soon, all that was left of Quirrell was a pile of ash. Voldemort, however, had escaped, if the black smoke that had flown through the walls had been any indication.

The magic powering the ropes binding her had disappeared due to the death of the caster. Thus, Hermione, though still stunned by the revelation that Voldemort had made and in a considerable amount of pain, was able to walk over to Harry, who had slumped over as soon as Voldemort had fled.

She knew he must be suffering from the magical backlash. She too was exhausted. But she would force herself to remain conscious, if only to guard the poor boy's vulnerable body.

As she waited, Hermione caught sight of a glittering red rock. The infamous Philosopher's Stone.

Hermione's inner instincts warred.

Intellect, Curiosity and Ambition versus Honesty, Decency and Innocence.

Hermione understood that this was a defining factor in deciding who she was as a person. Would she do the right thing and give up the Stone? Or would she take the stone and satisfy her own inquisitive nature and ambitious nature?

Hermione heard the sounds of a group of people running at top speed. It was now or never.

 **H** ermione, still as bald as a babe - and likely to stay that way, Madam Pomfrey had said, curse fire-induced scars and all that - sat in the train back to Hogwarts, contemplating her strange year.

For the first time in her life, she had been on top. The Hogwarts First Years had looked up to her. She, Hermione, had somehow become one of the most popular students of the school, beloved by not only her peers - barring Draco and Pansy and their allies, and a few of the jealous Ravenclaws-, but also the Professors - except Snape, who Hermione was certain didn't have a heart, and Dumbledore, who always seemed wary around her for some reason.

And her reputation had been bolstered even more when Dumbledore, who had been pulling points out of a hat to give to Gryffindors at what was supposed to be a Slytherin end-of-year feast, had, at a sharp glance from Professor McGonagall, awarded her points as well. This had put Slytherin back in the lead again, making her a House hero.

When the train came to halt at KIng's Cross Station, Hermione descended onto the platform with all her luggage. Her parents were there already! She had really missed them!

As she entered her father's car, she patted her pocket and grinned slyly.


	5. Chapter 5: Gold, Goblins, and Goals

Had anyone decided to venture into Hermione's bedroom, they would find a veritable treasure chest. Coins, rods, rings, chains, bars, and even, strangely enough, a mini-fridge, were all pure gold. Hermione had obviously been putting the Philosopher's Stone to good use.

Well, that was debateable. It was better to say that she was putting it to use. In fact, Hermione believed that she had created enough gold to crash the gold market. Not that that was her plan - she wasn't stupid - but she felt excited just thinking that she had the power to do so.

Having the Stone had made her giddy. She could theoretically live forever, now that she had access to the Elixir of Life and the prospect of immortality and riches had made her realize just how small her initial goals had been.

All she had wanted was for the bullying to stop, to finally be the popular one, and not the shunned and tormented genius girl. Now that she had achieved that, and more, she was still trying to figure out what exactly her new goals were.

And thinking of that reminded her of just why it was so important to find new goals.

"Cousin", Voldemort had called her. She shuddered just remembering it. If Voldemort were to ever come back - and he had somehow done so already, so it was highly likely -, she would be a target.

It was an ironic fact that by trying to fit in, Hermione had actually set herself apart from the everybody else. Voldemort believed that she was his cousin - and Harry had heard -, so that would be enough.

Hermione giggled, imagining a scenario in which that rotting face sat in a comfy armchair by the fire in the Slytherin Common Room, Hermione opposite him trying to convince him that she had merely been joking about the whole pureblood thing. Their would be tea and scones, and a bright flash of green.

Yeah, no. That definitely wouldn't be happening.

She would be a target, either to join his side - which she would never do- or to be offed. Voldemort didn't seem the type to care much for familial love so it could really go either way.

 **H** ermione did several things with the copious amount of gold she had made.

She had dug up, with the help of her parents, who, as usual, were unaware of her schemes, a large well in her backyard. After sending her parents off, she had simply tipped over her makeshift treasure chest, which had previously been a rusty metal box in her attic, into the hole, and put dirt over it again to get it looking well and truly buried. She had left it buried there for a few days before she asked her father to help her dig some more. It had been he who had struck gold. He had been so excited.

Within a few weeks, after copious amounts of testing of the quality of the gold and the deed to the land, and a bit of rather amateur investigation by the bobbies - "just checking"-, Hermione and her parents were officially multi-millionaires.

 **N** ext, Hermione went to Gringotts.

The year before, Hermione had entered Gringotts a total of two times to change muggle money into Galleons. The goblin bank had been efficient if a bit hostile. She hadn't even needed to open a vault.

This year, however, she had been one of Gringotts' most frequent customers. Initially she had just gone in to exchange muggle money for Galleons - though in much larger quantities -, but then it had switched to opening a vault. Because she had really needed it.

Hermione was now the proud owner of her own personal vault. A vault that seemed to increase in content, all in gold, almost everyday. By the end of the fourth week of daily deposits, the goblin had scented something afoot. As she asked to deposit another heavy-looking satchel into her vault, she was told that "The Director" wanted to speak to her. Knowing that she had done nothing wrong, and that the harming of a witch - especially a pureblood - would cause a war, Hermione had followed, if a little reluctantly.

The wizened goblin who met with her, The Director, was a stern but altogether pleasant individual. At least that was Hermione's initial perception of him.

"Miss Granger, it has recently come to my attention that your account has been the most active in this branch of Gringotts. Gringotts thanks you for your patronage. However, the amount of activity is not really our concern, what we are most interested in is the amount of gold that your vaults now possess. An early estimate of the value has been rather astonishing, well at least for someone who has no banking history at any magical bank, Gringotts or otherwise."

Hermione froze. What exactly was he implying?

She asked him just that.

"Well, you see, while Gringotts is a bank and happily accepts your money without questions, we are also bound by certain legislation that requires us to inform the government of just how exactly our clients come across their money."

Hermione cursed. There was no such legislation! Gringotts Bank was, for all intents and purposes, an autonomous region within Great Britain and Ireland. The last Goblin Rebellion had ensured that.

She told him just that.

"Yes, well that may be so. Gringotts may not be required to, but it is certainly encouraged by the Ministry, and Gringotts strives to follow as many of the honourable Ministry's policies as possible."

Another lie. The Director would spit in Fudge's face if it got him a galleon.

She expressed this.

"Truly, you really are a clever girl. Gringotts would like -"

She was tiring of hearing the goblin prevaricating and controlling the conversation.

"Yes, what would Gringotts like? Let us not beat around the bush. Flowery language does not suit you Goblins."

The Director chuckled.

"Good. Your gold, how much of it do you have?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Several generations' worth multiplied by ten"

The Director licked his lips. "Yes, I imagine you do. Coming from that old family of yours. The Grangers."

"Yes, the Grangers and Beauharnais', through my father, and the Gaunts and Hexes on my mother's side. Lots of history, lots of money, but only me."

"So you are the heir to those four families?"

Hermione nodded.

"How interesting. Isn't it just the slightest bit curious that out of the blue a girl appears claiming to be the heir of, not one, but four different magical houses? Houses that were all once famous, but that were all thought extinct just two years ago. It's just all a bit too convenient if you ask me."

She hadn't asked him.

"What are you getting at?"

"You aren't who you say you are, and we have the power to reveal that. Magical fraud is a serious crime, you know. It warrants the snapping of a wand, and a rather long stay in Azkaban."

Hermione's eyes widened. She finally understood. They were trying to blackmail her.

"What's your price?" she asked coolly.

"We will require at least three quarters of all the gold that you have."

Hermione pretended to think about it. WIth the Philosopher's Stone, she would be able to recuperate all the gold that she gave them and more. She giggled internally, while pretending to think it over.

"I will agree to that on two conditions."

This time The Director's eyes bulged to epic proportions. Three quarters of all of her gold would be a killing. He would be a hero in the goblin Nation!

Hermione watched in hidden amusement as The Director attempted to rearrange his features and carry on a professional conversation.

"You are not in a position to making demands, Miss Granger. But, out of courtesy, I will hear your conditions."

"I want Gringotts Bank to formally, and irrevocably, bound by a magical oath between me and the chosen Representative of the entire Bank, not just this branch, to recognize me as the rightful Heiress to the Magical Houses of Granger, Beauharnais, Gaunt and Hex, and to grant me any and all vaults, holdings and titles that accompany that position. I also want Gringotts Bank to swear an oath keeping any and all of my dealings within the bank confidential to all but me, and those I wish to designate, and my bankers, of course"

The Director was worried. The girl was asking a lot… but she was also offering a lot. The amount of gold that Gringotts would claim would put the Goblin Nation firmly ahead of those dwarves in the race to colonize the newfound territory beneath Greenland!

But she really was asking a lot.

"To sweeten the deal, I am willing to give Gringotts Bank a further ten percent of my gold. That's a total of eighty-five percent of all the gold I possess."

The Director wanted to accept but he needed to check with his counterparts in the other branches, after all, she was requesting a Representative of the Bank.

"Oh and another five percent, I will transfer directly to you."

"DEAL!!"

 **A** week later, after a long, and rather tedious, meeting with the Representative, Hermione left the bank a new woman - fine, she was only twelve. a new girl then -.

Her tenuous - read fictitious - claim to pureblood heritage was over. Now, no one, not even Gringotts could claim that she wasn't a pureblood. She had the names, the vaults and - Hermione thought a little sulkily- the blood to prove it.

To pass on the the vaults to her name without being cursed - both the Magical Grangers and the Gaunts had been true pureblood fanatics, and were quite likely to have placed enchantments on their vaults - due to being a muggle-born, Hermione had been required to undergo a rather painful, and firmly illegal ritual, that quite literally rewrote her genetic code, effectively making her a "pureblood". It had required the blood - standard procedure for opening a vault was to donate a bit of blood of the people she had claimed to be her grandparents: Jean-Jacques Granger, Kenya Beauharnais, Morfin Gaunt and Isolde Hex. This had been provided by the Haitian, British, and Belgian Gringotts branches.

What this meant for Hermione physically was that she would be undergoing a period of assimilation that would render her unable to perform magic for awhile. Long enough to coincide with at least the first two weeks of her second year at Hogwarts.

She wondered if they would think she had lost her magic.

 **T** he day before her return to Hogwarts, Hermione found herself staring at the mirror.

Her hair was gone. Not even a millimeter of hair had grown back over her burnt scalp. She had been periodically applying illusions that gave people the impression that she still had her mane of hair.

Hermione cried. She couldn't believe that she actually missed her hair! It had been the cause of so much drama, and trauma in her life.

And yet, it had also been such an integral part of her! She had come to cherish her mane - and that was what it was! A mane! It had announced to the world that she was as fierce as a lioness before she even knew that she could be fierce.

Hermione thought of all the restorative potions that she had spent a load of galleons on. They had done nothing! The cursed scars wouldn't allow anything to grow!

That would be one of her goals! Get her hair to grow back, even if it was a bit frivolous - a girl could kick ass, and look good too.

Now, she just needed to find a few more important goals. Perhaps she should buy a business? Get into politics? Maybe both?

She was certain she would figure something out soon.


	6. Chapter 6: Boys, Bigots and Besties

Second year had started off with a bang. Literally.

As all the students sat down to for the Sorting Feast an earth-shattering boom was heard. The First years all thought it was normal so they clapped when they heard the noise, but all the other students knew that something had gone wrong. It was only until the next day, however, that everyone understood what exactly that was. Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mother, had made sure of that.

Those foolish boys had crashed a flying car - Hermione was very interested in the concept - into the Whomping Willow, but not before being seen by half of muggle London! Worse than "Ron's father now facing an inquiry at work that was entirely his fault", they had jeopardised the safety of the entire Wizarding World! The Statute of Secrecy had been put in place for a reason!

Hermione made up her mind to give the boys a good lecture about it.

 **I** t hadn't gone over well. At. All.

Ron had called her a goody-two-shoes, know-it-all - which was funny, because he hadn't minded when she had known the answer to their Nicolas Flamel question the year before - and stormed off.

Harry's response had really hurt though. "You shouldn't be worrying about us doing any harm, with a cousin like yours!"

They had had almost no interaction after the events of the "Night of the Stone" - as she had taken to calling it - so Hermione hadn't known how Harry would respond to Voldemort's revelations. Well, now she knew.

She had thought that after what they had been through together that they had become friends.

Apparently not.

 **T** he Chamber of Secrets had been opened - reopened if Draco was to be believed - and the attacks had begun. In quick succession, a cat and two students had been petrified.

What was worse than the attacks themselves - at least to everybody but the victims, and the bigoted purebloods - was the intent behind the attacks: whoever had opened the Chamber had done so with every intention of targeting muggle-borns.

Moreover, whoever had written on the wall in blood - "How barbaric!", Hermione had exclaimed - had claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin. As far as Hermione knew, the House of Slytherin had been extinct in the male line for centuries now.

After doing a bit of research, Hermione had discovered something very interesting, and very daunting.

The last of the Slytherins had been a quartet of sisters, who had all married into other pureblood families. The eldest, Metis, had married a Gaunt, and the younger three, the triplets, Leda, Semele and Alcmene had married into the Potter, Black and Malfoy families. Though, there were dozens or even hundreds of students descended from one, or possibly all, of the sisters - pureblood-inbreeding being so common -, somehow the focus of the school had narrowed down to three possible candidates for the "Heir of Slytherin": Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, - and to Hermione's great dismay - Hermione Granger.

All were direct descendants of one of the sisters, all were currently students of Hogwarts, all were rather talented sorcerers, at least for their age, and all three, according to the school rumour mill, had a motive.

Harry's motive was supposedly that he was a Dark-wizard, as only a dark wizard could have been able to defeat a wizard of You-Know-Who's calibre. Nevermind that Professor Dumbledore, a decidedly not-dark wizard, had managed to defeat Grindelwald, and that, of the three suspects, Harry was the least likely to target muggle-borns, being a the son of a famous muggleborn himself. Another factor that led students to believe that Harry had opened the Chamber of Secrets was the discovery that he was a parseltongue which was another supposed trait of a dark wizard, and one of Salazar Slytherin's own talents.

Suspicion of Draco was based on him being a slimy git. After that, it was because he was openly bigoted, had rejoiced in the attacks, and had even made threats to one of the students who had been petrified. Added to that, was his father's rather notorious history of having been an "imperiused Death Eater - Hermione snorted -, Draco's own reputation of being the Prince of Slytherin - a title Draco himself had circulated, and that no one else, except Pansy, actually used -, and the fact that his mother was a Black, and a sister to the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione's motive was the least developed, yet somehow the most damning. Hermione's many times great-grandmother, Metis, had been the oldest Slytherin sister. Thus, as far as magical inheritance went, her descendants were the legitimate "Heirs of Slytherin". Hermione, being the granddaughter of the eldest Gaunt, actually could claim that title.

Not for the first time did Hermione curse her decision to use the Gaunt name in her backstory. It had been a real pain. She should have chosen a simpler family, with no sinister secrets, and rotting-face cousins, like the Rosewaters - the now-extinct ancient rivals of the Greengrasses. She would have preferred a rivalry with Daphne over a kinship with Voldemort anyday. However, it was certainly too late to change her story, now that she was actually a real Gaunt.

Moreover, Hermione's intellect had once again become a problem for some. Many students were now claiming that only she could be intelligent enough to re-open the Chamber of Secrets, especially from right underneath Dumbledore's nose.

That she was a "sneaky snake" didn't help matters at all.

Her second year had truly gotten off to a rough start.

 **"D** raco is a foul racist, and a spoiled brat, but he is definitely not capable of being the Heir of Slytherin. And poor Harry! I may hate him right now, but he really doesn't deserve the suspicion of the entire school. His mum was a muggleborn for Merlin's sake!", Hermione exclaimed to Tracey.

"Yeah it is a real shame. But what about you, Hermione? You do know they are saying that you are the Heir."

"Yes Tracey, I know. Hard not to, what with all the dirty stares the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors are throwing my way. I hate that anyone could think that I am capable of harming a muggleborn, for the sole fact that they are muggleborn. Colin is a really nice guy too! A bit obnoxious, but really nice! I even helped him with his Herbology assignment and let him take a few pictures of me. He is so ni-"

At this, Tracey, too polite to verbally interrupt, but unwilling to hear her friend call Colin "nice" again, sent a rather sharp glance in Hermione's direction.

"Hermione, it's okay. I know you don't actually like Colin very much. He is a bit annoying with that camera of his."

"Oh Tracey, he really was so annoying! Constantly being a bother. But I wouldn't petrify him because of that! I wouldn't petrify him at all! Just because I'm the Heir of Slytherin doesn't mean that I have to be a raving mad lunatic. And just because I'm a pureblood doesn't mean I'm a bigot. Bigotry is so stupid!"

"I know, Hermione, trust me, I know. You know, my grandparents threatened to disinherit my father when they found out he had married my mum. They thought she was just a no-good mudblood. When my uncle died, and daddy became the sole heir to the Davis' holdings, my grandparents couldn't risk disinheriting him anymore. But that doesn't mean that they welcome him back home or anything. Well, they do actually. But Mum, and I, and my little sister, Ophelia, aren't invited. Daddy won't go without us though. 'It's all or none!' he always says."

Tracey, who had been beginning to tear up as she told her story, giggled as she thought of her father's brilliance.

"Anyway, my point is that yes, bigotry is stupid, and I know you aren't stupid, so I will help you prove your innocence. After all, we're best friends, aren't we?

Still deep in Tracey's story about her grandparents, Hermione initially did not register Tracey's question.

"Huh?"

"I said. We. Are. Best. Friends. Aren't we?"

Was that a bit of sass she had detected? From Polite-Tracey? It was a great start!

Tracey was attacked by a quick moving mass, and she landed on the floor in a heap of tangled limbs.

"Of COURSE we are!"


	7. Chapter 7: The Heir Strikes Again

Being temporarily magic-less had left Hermione extremely cautious in classes. She hadn't raised her hand once to ask, or answer, any questions, and had been utilizing her illusions to compensate for actual wand work.

However, in classes where physical objects were magically manipulated, like Transfiguration and Charms, her illusions had not served her well. A shortcoming of her illusions were that they were not yet capable of affecting all the senses. This meant that she could manipulate what people saw, heard, and smelled, and in some rare cases, tasted, but she could not fool their sense of touch. In a class like Transfiguration, in which Professor McGonagall was constantly scrutinizing every minute detail of the object to be transfigured, her illusions were next to useless.

Her inability to perform the magic had been noted by some of the Professors and a few of the more attentive students as well. Draco had mocked her relentlessly for it. He had gone so far as to question whether she was really a witch or not. Hermione shrugged off his comments, after all, he was just a little platinum ponce and there was no need for her to stoop to his level.

At the end of a Transfiguration class in which they were attempting to change animals into goblets and that had left Hermione feeling particularly frustrated - "It's SO easy! OH why did I ever do that sodding ritual"-, Professor McGonagall had asked her to stay behind for a chat.

"Miss Granger. I find myself utterly perplexed by you this year. You have shown me none of the brilliance that you were so famous for last year, and yet, I know for a fact that you are already capable of performing the spells that we have been learning. It is always a shame for a teacher to see talent go to waste, and you certainly are talented. So what exactly is it that is holding you back?"

Hermione was frozen in shock. What could she say? She was certain that a casual "Oh professor there is nothing to worry about, I just temporarily don't have my magic due to an illegal blood ritual" would not fly. She scoured her brain for possible excuses. Maybe a half-truth?

"Well, Professor. I really am sorry about disappointing you. It's just at the end of the holidays something happened and my magic has just been a bit wonky ever since." Well, that was completely true. Time for the lies.

"What is it that happened, Granger? And why wasn't I made aware the day that you returned to Hogwarts?"

"You see, Professor, I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed about what? Spit it out, Granger!"

"I started my period." Hermione turned deep red as she said it. To support her lie she had to sacrifice a bit of her dignity.

"Say no more, Granger. You know, I remember my first course: whatever I touched would turn into blood. That's when I first knew that I loved Transfiguration. With your parents being squibs you might not know this, but it's nothing to be embarrassed or worried about. In fact, it's an important part of a witch's magical development. Just give it some time, everything will soon be back to normal, and I will expect to see you shining in my class once more. Now off you go."

Hermione, still blushing fiercely, scurried out of the classroom. What a nightmare! She most assuredly did not want to talk about her (non-existent) period with any of her professors. She raced down to the dungeons, ready to unwind after a truly strange day.

What Hermione hadn't noticed was that there had been another student in the classroom. A student who had not filed out of the room but had instead hidden under one of the desks. A student she had once described as a "platinum ponce".

 **Hermione** awoke the next morning to find what seemed like the entire school talking about her. They were all snickering whenever she passed them by, and pointing at her as if she were a zoo animal.

What had happened? Had she forgotten to apply her hair illusion?

No, that was not it.

Deep in thought, Hermione was startled by the sound of running footsteps echoing throughout the hallway. She looked up to find Tracey come hurtling towards her, looking frantic, and breathing heavily.

"HERMIONE!"

" **I** am going to KILL that NITWIT! How dare he? How absolutely barbaric! "

"Hermione! Calm down. Maybe you should take this to Professor Snape? Let him deal with Draco. You don't want to get in trouble!"

"I should take it to Snape, and I will, but only after I have had a bit of reven-... I mean justice!"

Before Tracey could offer another reasonable opinion, Hermione had run off, intent on finding Draco Malfoy.

 **As** Hermione wandered through the castle, more and more people whispered and giggled. The more people that she encountered that had listened to Draco's gossip, the worse her mood became. When she had finally spotted the little Slytherin princeling holding court in nowhere else but the courtyard - "How inspired" she drawled- , her mood could best be described as black, and it manifested itself in her surroundings. Hermione was unconsciously lengthening shadows, leeching the light from the air, and plunging everything around her into darkness. This had the effect of providing a truly ominous scene, and frightening away many of the students congregated around Draco.

Draco, who had been facing the opposite direction, seemed utterly confused at the mass exodus of his listeners. What could have driven them off, he thought.

He would quickly find out.

Hermione lamented the fact that she only had access to illusions at the moment, otherwise Draco would be in for a whole world of hurt. The most she could do with her illusions would be to terrify him into submission. A flock of birds and a collapsing building had only scared him for so long, but now it was time to bring out something that would really make him realize that he should never even dream of crossing her. She would have to choose her illusions carefully.

Draco turned around. "What are you bloody doing here, Granger? I thought you would be too bloody, that is to say, busy." Draco smirked.

He thought he was so clever. Hermione laughed.

Immediately, frost seemed to form around the courtyard, encasing everything around Draco.

"Granger! WH-"

Dark cloaked figures swooped down from the sky, their wheezing breath adding to the ice forming around the courtyard. Scabbed skeletal hands tugged at the cloak's hood. A swarm of these figures rushed at Draco, eager to steal his soul through a Kiss.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Draco screamed and screamed and tried to run away, but the beings drew ever nearer until they had completely surrounded him. The beings undid their hoods and inhaled.

Hermione had tapped into one of wizarding-kind's biggest fears: Dementors. What chance did a twelve year old boy stand against them?

Draco fainted.

Hermione left him there. He would find his own way back.

" **Have** you heard about Malfoy?"

"Heard what, exactly?"

"They say he's gone mad. He's being moved to St. Mungo's today."

"Well his mum is a Black, innit? It certainly wouldn't be a surprise if he was mad, would it? Mad as hatters that entire family is, me mum says."

Overhearing this exchange during a Herbology lesson, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if she had taken things too far.


	8. Chapter 8: Madness, Monsters, and Mayhem

Draco had been a bully. Of that there was no doubt. But had he deserved to be frightened into insanity?

Hermione was certain that the answer was no. Yes, Draco had been a bully, and yes he had spread stories about her, and others, with malicious intent but in the end he was nothing but a twelve year old boy. A supremely annoying twelve year old. But no matter how irritating Malfoy could be, driving him mad was not a suitable punishment.

And there was a high chance that Draco had actually lost his mind. His maternal family, the Blacks, were notorious for being slightly unhinged, and Draco believed that he had encountered Dementors, which had been known to drive wizards, some who were more powerful than either Draco and Hermione could ever hope to be, mad.

The idea that there was a creature capable of leeching your very soul was horrifying to anyone, even muggles. For wizardkind, however, it took on a different meaning. The soul was the most sacred part of the body for a wizard or witch as it was where not only one's core identity was held, it was also where magic originated. Soulless wizards lost all sense of self and were unable to perform even the simplest of spells. It was understandable how this would horrify the magical population.

Draco had either been severely shaken by Hermione's illusion, or he had gone insane. She fervently hoped it was the former, but either way, she would be feeling guilty.

She had gone too far.

 **Another** student, this time a muggleborn Ravenclaw, Penelope Clearwater, had been petrified.

The students had been shocked.

With Malfoy out of the castle, the speculation as to who was behind the attacks had ramped up. Had Malfoy been able to let the monster of the Chamber loose before he left? Or were Hermione and Harry behind the attacks?

The latest petrification had caused the Headmaster to announce in the Great Hall that unless the perpetrator of the attacks was caught, Hogwarts would not be reopening the following year. The entire castle resounded with a collective gasp. Hogwarts had not been closed since its founding. Not even during the bloody Britons versus Bretons War, in which Magical Britain and France had duked it out over some of Merlin's tomes, had the school closed.

But something would have to be done. Hogwarts was an integral part of Great Britain's history. If it were to be closed, a grave moral panic might descend upon the populace.

The false Heir would have to be found, and she would be doing the finding.

 **Hermione** had narrowed down a list of possible suspects:

Harry Potter - As unlikely a candidate as any, Harry was a pleasant person, the son of a muggleborn, and intensely scrutinized. However, he often wandered around the castle at all hours of the night, he was always one of the first students at the scene of a petrification and Hermione knew that he possessed an invisibility cloak. She really didn't believe that Harry was capable of orchestrating the attacks but she needed to be a thorough investigator.

The Weasley Twins - Hermione knew that they were (generally) harmless pranksters and that the entire Weasley family was notorious for being Blood-Traitors, and thus unlikely to attempt to eradicate muggleborns. However, she had done her research, and the Weasley family's current matriarch, Cedrella, had been born a Black. This meant that the Weasley's, like a few dozen other families, could technically claim the Heir of Slytherin title. In addition to this, the twins were famous for wandering around the castle and never getting caught; and for claiming to know all of Hogwarts' secret passageways.

On Hermione's list were also several Hufflepuff seventh-years who were all children of a conservative group of politicians and business people who had been under acquitted after being under investigation for supporting muggle-baiting. None were descendants of the Slytherin family and so could not really be Heirs of Slytherin, but perhaps they saw themselves as the inheritors of the Salazar Slytherin's ideology, despite not even being sorted in his House.

 **Hermione's** investigations had turned up a massive amount of information. None of it, however, was relevant.

She learned that Harry was very jumpy, and had difficulty focusing on his assignments; that the Weasley twins were in possession of a Map that detailed the entire school, and were secretly brilliant in Charms and Potions; and that the group of Hufflepuffs, to Hermione's horror, were experimenting with sex magic. Loudly.

With that route exhausted, Hermione then sought to discover what type of monster the false Heir could have unleashed upon the castle. She had asked the Care of Magical Creatures Professor what kind of creatures were capable of petrifying their victims. Professor Kettleburn had been only too happy to explain. Gorgons, medusae, cockatrices, gargoyles, and basilisks were all capable of petrification, but only cockatrices, gargoyles and basilisks were found in Britain. Thus, Hermione concluded that the monster had to be one of those creatures (unless the false Heir had managed to successfully recreate the environment necessaryfor gorgons, and their cousins, the medusae, or was performing highly complex and time-consuming petrification-magic).

"It's a snake!" Hermione had overheard Ron and Harry discussing a few days after Hagrid's ridiculous, and most probably illegal, arrest.

"How are you so sure, mate?"

"Aragog said so!!"

Even if she hadn't the slightest clue as to who Aragog was, Hermione was certain that boys were talking about the monster.

Of the three most probable creatures, two were snake-like: the Basilisk, which was also known as the King of Serpents, and the Cockatrice, which had the head of a rooster, but the body of a two legged serpent.

Hermione was more inclined to believe that the monster was a Basilisk because Cockatrices were extremely loud, and incapable of being magically silenced. Thus, any of its calls would have been heard. However, since Hagrid's roosters had been killed, no rooster calls had been heard in the castle. This lead even more credibility to the Monster-is-a-Basilisk theory, because rooster cries were fatal to Basilisks.

Yes, the roosters had been killed, and their blood used in the gruesome messages left around the castle, to end any threat to the Basilisk. Hermione was certain.

And yet, Basilisks were known to be massive creatures. How was it that no one, other than the victims that is, had sighted the beast? How was it moving around the castle? That was the most pressing issue. If she could figure that out, then she would be able to alert the Professors, or perhaps write directly to the Ministry, and the school would be safe once more.

Where could the basilisk be? They were known to inhabit caverns, and grottoes, and had an aversion to sunlight, and heat. Thus, wherever the creature was, it had to be a dark, damp and spacious.

The problem was that there were a multitude of places that fit that description in Hogwarts, or on the grounds. After all, the Slytherin common room was located in the dungeons of the Castle, and was directly underneath the Black Lake. Hogwarts: A History had described several places that Hermione could think of. In fact, even the Black Lake was a possible habitat for the basilisk, as it was connected to Hogwarts Castle through the sewage system. It could just slither through the pi…

PIPES! The Basilisk must be using the piping to get around the castle!

Reading Sherlock Holmes had definitely paid off.

Hermione had a letter to write!

 **After** Hermione returned from the rookery, where she had sent an urgent owl addressed to the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and another straight to the Auror Office, she made her way to the Headmaster's Office.

As she walked through the corridors, Hermione could not help but notice just how deathly silent the castle had become. Technically she was breaking curfew and no students should be out in the corridors, but surely at least somewhere the Weasley twins were off causing mischief! Not even the portraits, who were all normally extremely boisterous, made a sound.

It was unnerving.

Hermione was on edge. Something didn't feel right. Her instincts told her that something was about to happen.

Hermione picked up her pace. Soon she was hurtling down the corridors, hoping to reach the Headmaster in time. Professor Dumbledore would know what to do most certainly. She just had to reach him.

Plop… Plop… Plop… Plop

Something had disturbed the silence.

Hermione came to an immediate halt and looked around trying to ascertain where the sound was coming from. A quick glance toward the ground made Hermione freeze. The floor was soaked.

"Crucio."

A scream resounded through the castle.

"Shut up, you stupid bint! Stupefy!"

Once more, silence reigned.

 **Harry** and Ron had heard a ghastly scream and had gone quickly to investigate. They hoped against all hope that no one else had been attacked.

No such luck.

The duo crouched at a corner when they saw all the Heads of Houses gathered around a wall. A wall that held a very sinister message.

 _"HER BODY SHALL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER."_


	9. Chapter 9: The Shade and the Rat

An unconscious girl lay immobile in a dark and damp dungeon. The girl's skin paled and her body seemed to shrink in on itself, as if she was being robbed of her vitality.

In fact, this was happening. The girl's very life was powering a rebirthing ritual. In no time at all, her life force would run out, and she would be naught but a dry husk, whereas the one performing the ritual would be empowered once more.

A masked man kneeling close to the girl's limp body gritted his teeth as he powered through the taxing ritual. The magic that he was performing would normally be performed by two wizards working in tandem, but with his Lord's guidance - and punishment- he had been able to succeed. Though, he was certain that his magic would be sluggish and unresponsive for weeks to come.

"My lord! The ritual is almost complete. In a few short moments, you shall be reborn. The girl shall die, and you shall return into glorious being and lead us into the Golden Age!", the masked man's impassioned voice cried out.

A disembodied whisper on the wind responded, "Good. I have waited too long for this moment. Yesss, after tonight, the world shall know that Lord Voldemort, has done as no other before him, and conquered death itself! It is fitting that my very own blood shall be used to resurrect me. This Granger girl shows much promise, as to be expected from someone of the Gaunt lineage, but there is only room for one Heir of Slytherin in this world, and that shall always be me!"

Without any warning, a bright red bolt slammed into the ground next to the kneeling man, making pieces of the floor explode into the air and sending the man flying back into the wall, knocking him unconscious.

The faceless voice called out furiously, "Who dares enter Slytherin's Chamber without the invitation of the Heir!?."

A tall, bespectacled man wearing a silvery robe strode calmly into vision, nose crooked and his lips upturned in silent amusement.

"Ahhh Tom. Haunting Hogwarts once again? You never did want to leave the school, I know, but this is a bit extreme isn't it? You studied here for seven years already! Surely you are not so rusty in your skills that you must come back here every year?"

"Dumbledore, you meddling fool. You always did ruin my fun, but not tonight. Tonight you shall witness Lord Voldemort's return. But first I will give you a little taste of my ancestor's power! Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!".

From out of a carving in the wall of Salazar Slytherin, a massive snake emerged. The mighty basilisk had been summoned.

"KILL HIM."

The basilisk flicked its tongue in acknowledgement of the command, and started slithering toward its intended prey.

Dumbledore averted his eyes but appeared unfazed. Instead, he repeatedly traced his wand through the air in a circular motion. By the time Dumbledore had made ten loops with his wand the Basilisk was already pouncing on him.

Before it could devour him whole, however, thick metal cables erupted out of all of the surfaces in the Chamber, and restrained the Basilisk. The massive serpent struggled fiercely, attempting to wriggle its way out of the hold that it was placed in, but Dumbledore's magic held strong. Next, Dumbledore conjured a large tarpaulin, and levitated it over the beast before unceremoniously dropping it over its entire body.

"Out of sight, out of mind as the muggles say. Now, Tom, the Basilisk was impressive I might say, but it could hardly hinder me. Respect an old man in his age. I fear however, that tonight's events have come to an end. You have murdered, or attempted to at the very least, too many of my students for me to be lenient on you."

"Lenient?! Curse your bleeding heart, Dumbledore. I am LOR-"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, and still just a boy to me. Now begone from this place." With that, Dumbledore flicked out his wand and said succinctly, "Finite Incantatem".

The magical presence that had been building up immediately dissipated as the ritual that Dumbledore had targeted with his last spell was dispelled.

Albus Dumbledore, one of the most gifted Wizards in the United Kingdom, and the world at large, strode past Hermione's body towards the unidentified Death Eater who had attempted to resurrect Voldemort. As he approached, his wand whipped and slashed as he bound the man in rope, and conjured comfortable armchairs for himself and his prisoner. Satisfied, he made to awaken the man with a flick of his wrist but his hand stopped in mid-motion.

"Oh dear me. How forgetful of me!" Albus muttered to himself. "Fawkes!"

A bright flame abruptly burst into existence, illuminating the Chamber and chasing away the cold air that had begun settling in on Dumbledore's bones. As soon as it as appeared, the flame sputtered out and in its place was a magnificent creature: a vivid red and blue Phoenix.

"You are looking better than ever, my dear friend." The phoenix trilled in response to the complement.

"I have a task for you, Fawkes. Please escort Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing, I fear she has been through a great ordeal tonight."

Fawkes cooed once more and then immediately flew toward the immobile girl. Upon landing on her, a roaring flame streamed out of his wings and in an instant both the majestic phoenix and Hermione had disappeared.

"Ahh, back to business now. Rennervate." said Dumbledore, pointing his wand at his prisoner.

The masked man immediately startled awake, gulping for air. Even as he did that however, the man took in his bearings and noticed a few things: 1) The Dark Lord's shade was no longer present, 2) Dumbledore had succeeded in thwarting his plans and in capturing him, and 3) the Granger girl's body was missing.

Of those three observations the one that worried the masked man the most was, surprisingly, the third. This was not because the man had any attachment to the girl, apart from a bit of an attraction to her pubescent body, but because contained within the girl's robes was an object that was held most dearly by the Dark Lord. Worse than any punishment that Dumbledore or the Ministry could give him was the wrath he would face were the Dark Lord to discover he had misplaced his most precious object.

Hermione Granger had no way of knowing that she was currently in possession of one of her "cousin", Lord Voldemort's, most powerful and important items. In fact, she was in the possession of one of the most notorious magical items of all of Great Britain. Contained within her breast pocket was the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw.

Oblivious, Dumbledore, proceeded with his interrogation. "I will give you the option of answering my questions right now or waiting for the Aurors to question you right now."

The man quivered in his seat but mustered up the courage to spit at Dumbledore. "I-I ss-s-shall wait for the Aurors. I have no-nothing to say to you, you old coot!"

"Well that is your right, my boy. But first, I will unmask you. Knowing Fudge, as I do, he might very well try to hush this up, but I must know who those who are aiding Tom are. You would do the same in my position." Dumbledore reached out his hand and removed the mask that had been covering the man's face.

The ornate mask fell to the ground with a soft thud.

The man's identity had serious ramifications for all of Great Britain, but especially for a man who at this moment served a life-sentence in Azkaban and a boy who should be sleeping soundly in the his dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. Moreover, it opened an old wound in Dumbledore's heart.

Fat tears ran passed Albus' deviated nose, and unto the floor.

"It can't be! It can't be! How could you! They were your friends. Your best friends!"

Peter Pettigrew, the man who had been mourned and celebrated as a martyr of the War, was alive and well. And serving the Dark Lord.


End file.
